Battling Rapture
by Ryubarra
Summary: Jonathon was kidnapped among other things and was saved by Gibbs. He thinks he gets a break but things hit the fan as a terrorist plot is discovered with John's dad at the center of it all. Rated M for language and Rape, sexual themes maybe later


**Disclaimers:**

T.V show: Regrettably not mine

Characters: not mine (If so gibbs would be with Dinozzo, Ziva with McGee, and Abby the adopted daughter of Gibbs with a room full of gothic plushies)

Relationships: not mine. . . . yet.

Witty humor: ALL MINE.

* * *

><p>The dark cell stank of feces and urine, I tried hard not to breathe in too deeply; but it was like trying to swim through lead, impossible. The cage probably held dogs, judging by the smell, at one time.<p>

I had been here for two months now, a group of people found me one day on my way home from school and grabbed me. I didn't even have time to react as a sack was thrown over my head and a needle was thrust into the small of my back. I passed out instantly and woke up here.

When I first woke up here I saw a large man standing in front of the bars. He asked me about my dad and what I knew he did. My dad is a naval officer for the United States and that's about all I know, the man didn't believe me when I told him that and started to scream at me. I freaked out and started to cry. The man told me to shut up and grabbed the front of my shirt through the bars and slammed me against them. He got a good look at my face and smiled. He set me down and opened the gate, and came in toward me. I panicked and blacked out as he pinned me to the ground and started to kiss me.

My name is Jonathon Sullivan Baker, I am 15 years old; I was kidnapped, raped, and tortured by people who wanted to know more about my father and his work. My father is a general for the U.S Navy and I blame him for all of this.

I sat down in the corner of my cell and curled up into a ball, trying to keep myself warm in the nearly freezing temperature without putting too much pressure on my right side. I was scared because Derek, the man in charge, told me that if I made a sound he would kill me. I waited in the complete darkness as I heard a door banging in the distance. I started and was silenced by a guard outside my prison. I settled down and went back to counting the number of seconds passing. I reached 657 before machine gun fire filled the air outside of the building I was being held. I screamed as glass broke, letting in some amount of light, and a cartridge fell through the jagged remains of the tinted window.

The guard was about to shout something before someone kicked in a door and shot the man down. I pressed myself into the few remaining shadows, hoping to be hidden. I watched in terror as a man with salt and pepper hair walked into the building wearing a bulletproof vest labeled N.C.I.S. in big bold letters across the chest.

His eyes found me instantly and I wanted to puke; who was this guy who just shot down Derek's men without a second's hesitation, "Are you Jonathon Baker?" He asked, not unkindly.

I couldn't speak so I just nodded my head once.

He smiled, "I'm special agent Gibbs, and we're here to take you home."

I sat in the back of a black Government Issue suburban and watched as the rolling landscape of a city flies by. I was in my own world, just thinking. I looked around for two hours until the car pulled into a giant complex of buildings.

"We're here." Gibbs said.

I didn't really process what he said until he reached back and shook me.

I flinched and grabbed his wrist as reflex before I remembered where I was. I pulled my arm back and apologized, "Sorry, reflex; not that they did me that much good."

Gibbs looked as if he was about to say something; but I was already out of the car.

I looked around the area and followed Gibbs as he walked into the building. It looked like a plain office building with a receptionist desk at the front; I followed Gibbs past the woman and into an elevator where he pressed the button of his designated floor.

"So, how old are you Jonathon?" Gibbs asked, probably more out of politeness than curiosity considering he likely had a file on me already.

"John is fine. I'm fifteen, sixteen in two months." I replied.

"Okay, so you have any hobbies?" Gibbs asked, again more for politeness than general curiosity.

I laughed a bit and he raised an eyebrow, "You're pretty bad at small talk, aren't you?" I say, still chuckling.

He just rolled his eyes, "When I usually ask people questions, it's more of a serious thing than the weather outside."

"Makes since to me," I say, "so what's your job?" I asked.

"I head a special team who work on cases involving naval officers." He replied simply.

"Interesting. . ." I trailed off, losing my train of thought as I got a good look at his eyes.

He saw me looking at quirked an eyebrow, "What?" He asked.

I cocked my head to the side like a dog, "Your eyes are a cool color, and people don't see that shade of blue too often." I replied, burning the steel, pale-like blue eyes into my memory.

Gibbs chuckled a bit, "Throughout what you've been through, my eye color is the thing that fascinates you; you're a weird kid."

I grew quiet at being reminded of what I just got through, "That's not all I observe," I start, going into a lucid state where I start remembering other things, "I remember the thirteen bullets that shot the guard down. I know that the driver of our car has a limp where his upper right leg was injured, probably by a bullet considering the movements." With each observation Gibbs eyebrows went the slightest bit higher and I smiled, "I also noticed that you are right handed and have a standard G.I 9mm pistol with a 10 bullet magazine holstered to your left hip; and there's a scar on the side of your neck right above the collarbone where something cut you." I finished.

Gibbs just looked at me out of the corner of his eye, clearly surprised to find a fifteen year old with this level of observational skills. "Any other special talents?" He inquired.

I thought about it, "No, just some hobbies." I replied, smiling as the conversation rounded full circle.

The elevator dinged at that moment and the doors slid open. Gibbs walked out into an office-like room with four cubicles at the center with a big screen with numbers plastered on it.

Three people were sitting at desks, two of them bickering about something. They all looked up from their business and three different eyes fell on me. I took stock of the people: The first one was a woman, Arabic descent, black wavy hair, brown eyes, and a kind enough smile. The second one was a man, probably Italian descent, chestnut hair that spiked out toward the front with a bit of hair peeking out through the top of his collar, his eyes were sea green with small blue flecks in them, he carried an easy going air about him and had a cocky grin on his face, this guy was actually pretty cute. The third one was a man, American, solid green eyes, brown-blonde hair that he kept tidy and short, slightly overweight but not by much, he was someone who screamed all business.

I lifted my hand in a half-hearted attempt at a wave.

"This is Jonathon Baker, son of 2nd general Richard Baker; he was held in custody for the past two months." Gibbs explained, I zoned out and looked at what was on the screen. It was a hex encryption. I recognized the sequences and started to decode it. My dad thought it would be a good idea to teach me encryptions, some part of his military training.

I lifted my hand and pointed at the screen, "What's that for?" I asked as I decoded it.

"It's not something you need to worry about." The Italian, named Dinozzo, said, "Don't want you to strain yourself; Abby is working on it now." He finished, sitting back and waiting.

"That's a hex encryption; I was taught how to decode it." I said, putting the words together into a coherent sentence.

Dinozzo rolled his eyes, "Sure you can little buddy."

I shot daggers at him and started to read from the screen, "54 68 65 20 70 61 63 6b 61 67 65 20 77 69 6c 6c 20 62 65 20 64 65 6c 69 76 65 72 65 64 20 74 6f 20 74 68 65 20 64 72 6f 70 20 70 6f 69 6e 74 20 61 74 20 30 35 30 30 20 68 6f 75 72 73 2e 20 4d 65 65 74 20 61 74 20 77 61 72 65 68 6f 75 73 65 20 31 35 20 66 6f 72 20 66 75 72 74 68 65 72 20 69 6e 73 74 72 75 63 74 69 6f 6e 20 75 70 6f 6e 20 64 65 6c 69 76 65 72 79 20." I recited.

Dinozzo looked interested now, "So what's it mean, smart guy?" He said, going along with it probably pitying me and trying to be nice.

I looked at the screen one more time to make sure, "It says 'The package will be delivered to the drop point at 0500 hours. Meet at warehouse 15 for further instruction upon delivery."

Dinozzo just sat smugly, thinking I didn't know what I was talking about.

At that moment, a phone rang and the overweight man, McGee, picked it up, "Yeah abbs?" He answered, "Okay got it." He hung up the phone. "She is sending the decryption right now."

Dinozzo looked at him, "So what's it say Probie?"

McGee looked at me in confusion, "What did you say it read Jonathon?"

I sighed and repeated myself, "The package will be delivered to the drop point at 0500 hours. Meet at warehouse 15 for further instruction upon delivery"

Dinozzo looked back and forth, "So what does it say McGee?" he asked impatiently.

McGee looked back at me again, "Exactly what he said."

Dinozzo looked at me dumbstruck.

The woman, Ziva, laughed at his expression.

Gibbs looked at me, "A hobby?" He asked, referring to me telling him I had no special talents.

"Education." I corrected him. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and cringed. My hair was matted, I was covered head to toe in grime and muck, my clothes were ripped and tattered and overall I looked like a mess. I took in a deep breath and let it out before turning back to Gibbs, "I hate to be _that_ person; but can I get a shower?" I asked.


End file.
